The Man Who Cut the Cord

Mara hadn't left her apartment in three weeks when the cable finally died.

She stared at the black screen, realizing she couldn't remember the last time she'd watched anything anyway. The divorce had finalized in February. Marco was living in the padel club now—literally, in the manager's apartment above the courts, somewhere she'd never been invited. He'd chosen racquet sports over their marriage, and wasn't that just perfect?

The technician arrived at 7 PM. Jonas, his nametag read. He smelled like rain and cheap cologne.

"Bad connection," he said, checking the coaxial cable where it snaked through her floorboards like a dead thing. "Whole building's having issues. You've got the old copper wiring. Need to upgrade."

Mara watched his hands. Strong, competent hands. When was the last time someone had touched anything in her apartment with care?

"Whatever," she said. "Just fix it."

"Mind if I sit?" He gestured to her papaya-colored armchair.

She nodded. The fruit color had been Marco's choice—tropical, vibrant, everything their marriage wasn't.

Jonas worked silently, then paused. "You okay?"

"Why?"

"There's a bottle of vitamins on your kitchen counter. Same ones my mom took when she—" He stopped. "Never mind."

Mara crossed her arms. "They're for energy."

"The bottle's unopened."

The truth spilled out anyway. "They're for depression. I can't bring myself to open them."

Jonas looked at her, really looked at her. "My mom waited six months before she started hers. Said admitting she needed help was harder than taking the pills."

He fixed the cable. He didn't charge her. But before he left, he said, "There's a padel tournament at the club this weekend. My friend's playing singles, his partner bailed. You should go. Even if you just watch. Sometimes being around people helps."

Mara opened the vitamin bottle that night.

She didn't go to the tournament. But she called her sister. And she canceled the cable service. Sometimes you had to cut the cord to remember you were still connected to something real.